


Spy flick

by inthebeginningtherewasM



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: BAMF!May, Car Chases, College Professor!Coulson, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Or does he, Phil really has no luck, Spies & Secret Agents, i wanted to write this so bad, mysterious briefcases, took me forever but here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 05:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17802005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthebeginningtherewasM/pseuds/inthebeginningtherewasM
Summary: „So, what’s in the case?“, he asked quickly, trying to distract her. She smirked at the question, obviously amused that he thought he could distract her so easily.„That’s classified“, she said lightly.„Then what’s your name?“„Classified as well.“Or "The one where a woman commandeers Phil’s car and they go on a wild car chase around the city."





	Spy flick

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, sweetpeas!
> 
> Should I be continuing my multi-chapter fic? Yes. Am I procrastinating? Yes. Yes, I am. XD  
> I had the idea for this fic a couple of months ago and now it's finally reality. I rearranged and rewrote lots of it (because how does linear writing even work, dammit) and I'm rather sure it's much cooler in my head AND it turned out very differently from what it was meant to be in the beginning. Writing this was so fun and also so hard, y'all. But I still hope you guys like it. <3

Philipp J. Coulson loved his car. It was a 1962 Corvette in bright red he had painstakingly fixed with his dad over the course of many months and years. (They called her Lola.) Every Sunday after church his father and he would go to the garage and tinker with the motor or the breaks or the suspension to make sure the car would be up and running at some point. Sometimes his dad would take him to scrapyards and they would spend hours climbing over rusty car wrecks, looking under hoods and kick against metal to find some spare part that was still in mint condition and promised fixing the one thing that kept it from starting.

Now, so many years later, he still marveled at the fact that his father and he had actually managed to fix Lola up and he secretly grinned to himself whenever he saw small groups of students standing around his car in awe or when people pointed at it when he drove by. He didn't mind the jealous quips of how he must be going through some kind of midlife crisis and if the car had come with some voluptuous blonde. He simply smiled and drove off, enjoying the wind in his hair and the feel of the steering wheel under his hands.

It also happened that people left stuff in his car. Sometimes it was simply garbage, like empty soda cups or napkins and once even a cigarette butt. (Phil had been livid because not only was it a shitty thing to do, the cigarette had also smudged the cream-colored leather seats.) Sometimes he found things under his windshield wipers, notes that praised his car (which he liked), loveletters to him (which he found a little strange since he didn't know the people who sent them) or lingerie (which definitely weirded him out). This meant that Phil wasn't really surprised to see that there was something placed in the footwell of the passenger side of his precious corvette when he came from a lecture on a warm summer evening. What did surprise him was that it was a briefcase, made of black metal with an eagle printed on it. Phil frowned and put his own worn leather bag onto the passenger seat before he tried to pull the case out from under it. Did he give somebody a ride lately that forgot it there? Probably not. The more he thought about it, the surer he was that he case hadn't been there when he'd been headed for the university this morning. He looked to the left and to the right. There was nobody at the parking lot, no students and just a few other cars from faculty members.

Phil looked at the case. How did it get here? And what to do with it? Phil looked back to the university building. He could go back in there and give it to Lost-and-Found but then again he was already leaving later than his usual late so the office would most likely already be closed. It was probably better to wait till the next day. Maybe one of his friends had brought the case and forgotten it and Phil hadn't paid too much attention and hadn't seen it? It was possible. Phil shrugged to himself. He would figure it out. With that he stepped into his car and turned on the ignition. Which was when the gunshots happened.

* * *

 

The first thing you do if somebody is shooting at you is you _duck_. It’s an instinct and Phil’s instincts worked wonderfully. He crouched low into the seat of his car, almost slid off the cream leather and kept his head down.

His brain was fogged up with confusion and panic, his breath stuck in his chest and the gunshots rang in his ears. Out. He had to get out of there. He dared to raise his head for several inches when the noise stopped, frantically searching for the spot the bullets had been coming flying from. It made him wish he had gone to join the army like his father had wanted instead of studying and becoming a teacher but you probably didn't get used to being shot at anyway.

It was eerily quiet for a moment and then one second the parking lot still looked empty but the next a black SUV pulled up behind him and two men in black combat uniform, with heavy boots and sunglasses jumped out of it. They came up on both sides of Phil's car, looking menacing. One aimed his gun right at Phil's head.

"The briefcase", he said in a brash voice, "where is it?"

Phil felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His knees buckled, while he sat back onto the carseat and gripped the steering wheel.

"I...I-", he stuttered. Was this how he would die? The man shoved his gun closer to Phil's face.

"The case?", he demanded again and Phil held up his hands, leaned slowly towards the passenger seat and pulled out the briefcase. The guy on his left ripped it out of his hands and the gunman tipped the point of the gun against Phil's head one time before he let out an ugly laugh and they both rushed back into the backseat of the SUV which sped away with screeching tires.

 

Phil’s hands trembled. His stomach was in knots and it probably wouldn’t have taken much more for him to just lean over the side of his car and throw up. But he didn’t even have time for that before somebody else sprinted towards him. It was a woman in black clothes and light skin and she was carrying a gun. She almost slammed into the side of his corvette. Phil looked at her with wide eyes, another wave of fear washing over him.

„The case“, she panted and wiped something that looked suspiciously like a dribble of blood off her chin. „Did they get it?“

He could only nod. What was in that damned case that was so important to those guys? And why did nobody care that there were people running around the university ground with guns blazing? Didn’t campus security notice anything? (They…they hadn’t killed the men from the campus security, had they?)

The woman slammed her hands down onto the car door.

„Where did they go?“, she growled and Phil felt like shivering under her angry gaze. He nodded to the exit of the parking lot.

"Over there and to...the left?"

The woman cursed, before wincing and clutching her side. (Definitely in pain.) She took a deep breath and turned her focus back on Phil.

"I'm gonna need your car."

Phil stared at her. And then he said something tremendously stupid.

"You are in no condition to drive. That would not be safe."

It was a stupid thing to say. Moronic. Idiotic. Especially considering that the woman was carrying a gun and had obviously been in a fight earlier. But he had just been shot at and had had a gun jammed against his temple and he was angry and scared and he had had a really long day with too many essays still to grade and she was hurt and obviously furious and on the road that was just a recipe for disaster, really. Hey, maybe his brain was finally out of commission or something.

The woman stood there, frowning. Probably couldn't phantom how one man could be saying something so completely idiotic either. Since she was holding a gun and all. Finally she let out an angry huff and...opened the passenger door. Phil stared at her.

"Fine. You are driving", she growled, sliding into the seat next to him. "Step on it."

 

* * *

 

This day was gettin weirder and weirder. Phil felt like dreaming and not the good kind of dream where he was hanging out with Captain America. It was more like the strange kind of dream where he showed up for class completely dressed and everybody else was sitting there in their underpants, scolding _him_ about impropriety and indecency.

When he had woken up this morning he definitely hadn't guessed that at some point of the day he would break a lot of speed limits and take turns with screeching tires. He also wasn't sure why he hadn't refused the woman next to him, why he hadn't told her "no" and kicked her out of his car. (Then again, she had a gun.) Maybe he could just peg it off as temporary insanity.

Phil kept his foot on the accelerator and squinted at the road in front of them. The SUV had disappeared in the distance down the street and he was following it. Wasn't that crazy? Shouldn't he be driving into the opposite direction as fast as possible? Yes. Yes, he should. But he didn't. The streets swished by, the streetlights a blur. Phil frowned. Was he doing the right thing? Who told him that the woman was one of the good guys? Just because she hadn't killed him on sight and stole his car?

Phil risked a quick glance at the woman beside him, finally taking her all in. She wasn't tall for all he could see but her back was straight, her jaw clenched and her eyes alert. It made her look strangely imposing. She wore some kind of uniform, a black leather suit with logo he didn't recognize stitched in at her upper arm. Her hair was dark and pulled back into a low ponytail with strands falling out of it like she had been in a tussle and the gun in her lap, ready to fire. There was a small cut across her cheekbone that already turned a nasty purplish shade where a fist must have collided with her face. Still, she was beautiful. Gorgeous, really. If he hadn't been driving much too fast through the city, chasing after some guys with guns in a SUV,  that fact alone would have made him nervous. That, and the eery silence in the car.

He cleared his throat.

"I have tissues in my bag", he said carefully, gesturing with one hand to the beat up leather bag at her feet. "You know, for- for your cut?"

She gave him a long incredulous look before she pulled his bag onto her lap and rummaged through it with one hand. He heard the rustling of essay papers, the crunch of the half-full waterbottle he had thrown in there, the crinkle of the granola bar wrapper he had put there when there hadn't been a trashcan around and then, of course, the telltale swish of-

"Captain America?", she asked and there was a tilt in her voice that made Phil turn his head.

"The new issue", he mumbled and felt his ears run hot. He had bought it during his lunchbreak today and read it in his office. The woman gave a quiet chuckle and finally pulled out a tissue and pressed it to her cheek.

„So, what’s in the case?“, he asked quickly, trying to distract her from his comic book. She smirked at the question, obviously amused that he thought he could distract her so easily.

„That’s classified“, she said lightly.

„Then what’s your name?“

„Classified as well.“

„Man, I feel like I’m in a spy flick“, Phil said, the words just falling out of his mouth. The woman raised an incredulous eyebrow at him. She was probably wondering what kind of nut job she got into a car with.

„Come on, a high speed chase through the city, a mysterious briefcase, I’m being shot at, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is sitting in my passenger seat…“

He trailed off and began staring hard at the street in front of him, very much aware of how heat creeped up his neck and how hot his cheeks burned. He felt her eyes very intent on his face. God, he was always embarrassing himself, wasn't he?

A soft vibrating sound from one of her pockets saved him. She pulled a mangled looking smartphone out from under her jacket and put it to her ear with a huff. The man on the other side of the line had an deep and irritated sounding voice that carried so loud, Phil could make out every word.

"May? Where the devil are you? You should have been ready for extraction over an hour ago", the guy on the line shouted. The woman next to him sighed and glanced quickly at Phil.

"There were complications, sir. They have the case. I'm in pursuit." Her voice sounded much too even and it made Phil speed up a bit, sharpening his gaze and look for the black SUV even harder.

There was nothing but stunned silence coming from the phone for a moment.

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT HAPPENS IF THEY GET THESE CODES, MAY? THAT COULD MEAN THE FUCKING APOCALYPSE!“, the voice boomed. "HOW COULD YOU FUCK THIS UP?! GET THIS FUCKING CASE BACK, MAY, BEFORE THEY USE IT TO BLOW UP EVERY MAJOR CITY ON THIS GODDAMN PLANET!"

There was a sharp click and the line was dead. The silence that followed was absolute. The woman next to him stared at her phone for a second before she stashed it back under her jacket and started to tab the gun in her lap against her thighs. Phil could almost see her brain work as he observed her in the rear mirror and if he was being honest she looked like she wanted to jump out of his car and go after the guys who stole her case on foot. If he had had any doubts on which side she had been and if he was doing the right thing in driving her, those were definitely gone now.

The silence still weighed heavy on him though.

„May?“, he asked with a glance in her direction. „Is that your real name or is it some kind of code name? I mean, you’re obviously an agent of some sort of secret organization. Are you guys all called by the name of some month? Can I be June? I bet that would throw people off.“

He was rambling. But blowing up major cities didn't sound too good and he had to admit it made him kind of nervous. And maybe he wanted to distract her from her failure. He wasn't sure. It hadn't been her fault anyway. He had been the one who had handed over the briefcase without a word. Oh, God. Phil's blood ran cold. Had he just doomed millions of people to a horrible death?

He swiveled to look at May next to him, eyes wide. She cut him off before he could say anything though.

"No, this is not your fault." Apparently spies could also read minds. 

Her voice was calm and she seemed to hesitate before she reached out and squeezed his hand on the gearstick. Then she let go of his fingers as if she had burned herself.

"What do we do now?"

Because for some reason they were a _we_ now. It was crazy and dangerous but somehow he couldn't bear the thought of leaving her alone with this. They had to fix the problem. Together.

 

* * *

 

The problem was that the black SUV was gone. May cursed and shifted in her seat, twisting and turning and flinched ever so often when she put too much strain on her obviously bruised ribs.

"The city is not so big", Phil tried to reassure her. "We'll find them."

Truth was, his little city was more of a reasonably sized town. Its inhabitants were mostly of students enrolled in the local university, families with small children and old people which explained why there was almost nobody on the street. (Phil was really glad about that as he rushed down another road.) The local businesses were already closed down for the night and all that was left were bars where young people (when had he stopped being one of them?) went to unwind after work or class and park benches where they lounged around and enjoyed the warm summer air before it was back to sticky classrooms and dorms that smelled of desperation and cold pizza.

Phil stopped at a red light. He had been ignoring his conscience the whole drive so far and had run red lights again and again but now he wasn't sure anymore in which direction they should drive. How had they lost such a menacing looking SUV that just screamed "Guys, we are not from here, notice us!"?

The pizza parlor next to the traffic lights looked warm and inviting. A few young men stood right outside, talking, whistling when they saw them stop next to them. One of them waved and showed them a big grin.

"Evening, Professor Phil", he hollered. "Out on a late drive with the missus?"

Phil tried very hard not to blush.

"Good evening, Tripp", he shot back as dignified as he could. "Studying hard for that test tomorrow, I see."

The young man's grin only widened. Phil liked Tripp. He was one of his favourite students, friendly and motivated and always the first to volunteer for any impromptu reenactments Phil sprung on his class. He was the grandson of a highly decorated WW2 veteran and Phil had had many good conversations with the young man over the last few months.

"Hey, Tripp?", he asked casually, an idea forming in his mind. "Seen any black SUVs speeding by?"

He felt May tense next to him and resisted the urge to put a hand on her arm to calm her. Tripp frowned.

"No SUVs here, sir. But I heard there was quite a commotion a few blocks down by the factories. Speeding and somebody rammed a copcar or something. We were just talking about it. But I think they got the guy.“

Phil and May shared a look. It was not much but it was something. Phil felt a good deal of adrenalin rushing through him and put Lola into gear.

"Good man, Tripp", he grinned. "Full points on that last essay, by the way."

„Thanks, Professor Phil!“, Tripp yelled after them as they sped away.

 

"Professor Phil?" She sounded curious. Phil only shrugged. Maybe it was unusual that he let his students address him so casually.

"Well, Phil- Phil, that's my name. Phil Coulson. And one of my students came up with the whole "Professor Phil"-thing. Like- like Doctor Phil, you know? My students thought it was funny? I'm working as a student counsellor several hours a week. Students come to me when they are stressed or need somebody neutral to talk to?"

May gave a soft hum and shifted in her seat. They were driving down an old road, the buildings around them becoming more and more shabby and worn-down.

„Do you like your job?“, Phil inquired carefully. It wasn’t because he was curious. (Okay, he was _really_ curious.) He just wanted to talk to this strange woman who kind of dropped out of the clear blue sky and roped him into a car chase and was so intriguing somehow. Was that stupid? It was probably stupid.

„Do I look stressed or in need of somebody neutral to talk to?“, she quipped and side-eyed him.

„Well, you look a little mangled and you do need that case back. Would only make sense if you were stressed. I’m willing to listen.“

„I could tell you but then I would have to kill you.“ That made Phil grin.

„That’s such a spy thing to say.“

May smirked before her face got all serious again. Too bad. He started to like those little smirks.

„Why are you helping me, Phil?“

„What?“

„Why are you helping me? Why are you not scared out of your mind?“ She seemed very serious about it. Maybe a little confused. Suddenly there clung a sadness to her that made Phil’s throat constrict.

„Well, you are the one who got into my car. Also, you have a gun.“ He tried to keep his voice light but wasn’t sure if it worked. May rolled her eyes at him.

„It’s not even loaded.“

„Excuse me?“

„I’m all out of bullets. And I wasn’t going to shoot you anyway.“

Phil slammed his foot on the brakes. The seatbelt dug uncomfortably into his stomach while May had to brace herself against the door so she wasn’t smashed against the windshield.

„Are you crazy?“, she hissed, prying her fingers off the doorhandle.

„Are you?“, he snapped, turning around to face her. „Are you telling me you are chasing some dangerous, evil guys and don’t even have anything to defend yourself with?“

„If I need a gun, I’ll take one.“

„Very cool line, but I’m pretty sure that would still be suicide.“

„This isn’t some kind of movie, Phil. If I don’t get this briefcase back many people will get hurt.“

„You are already hurt“, Phil growled. „These guys are dangerous. You won’t stand a chance against them.“

Why couldn’t she see that? And why did he care anyway? Phil felt so confused. He didn’t know this woman. Still, he didn’t want her to get hurt. Or die.

They stared at each other.

„You don’t know what I can do“, she said after a while in a very even tone. „This is my job. But I guess a civilian can’t really understand.“

Phil could only stare at her. What?

„You should go home“, May said curtly and all of a sudden stepped out of the car. „Thanks for the ride.“

And then she vanished between two buildings faster than Phil could react.

 

A normal person would have gone home. Just turned the car around and driven away, forgotten that whatever had happened had happened. Well, that probably only meant that Phil Coulson wasn’t a normal person. It took Phil about two minutes of silently ranting in his own head, contemplating what to do, before he put Lola into gear again and drove in the direction May had vanished.

The old factory district in the south of town was full of abandoned warehouses. Of course it made the perfect hideout for some evil agents who stole secret launch codes and threatened to blow up major cities. Phil wanted to believe that he found the warehouse because of his superb driving skills or because he knew this city like the back of his hand or because he had good instincts for crime fighting or something.

Unfortunately it was rather because he had a great portion of luck and could be stubborn as a mule if he wanted. The warehouse was one of the smaller ones and the inside was light up like a christmas tree in comparison with all the other dark and gloomy warehouses. Phil drove up to it as silently as he could. There was an open garage door and light spilled out onto the pavement. There were voices and grunts and the outlines of several crates stacked on top of each other and a few guys standing around a table, working on something Phil couldn’t see with a knife. In the back somebody seemed to be loading something into a beat up SUV. (Hadn't Tripp said something about the police? Phil prayed they hadn't killed the police.) He probably had to get closer to see what exactly was going on in there. It was also very probable that that was a very bad idea.

Suddenly a dark figure unfolded from the shadows a few meters left of him, vaulted over the back of the car and slid onto his passenger seat. It happened so fast Phil would have been killed in an instant if it hadn’t been May who was suddenly sitting in his car again.

„What are you doing here? I told you to go home“, she hissed, her dark eyes glistening with anger. Maybe he would still die.

„I’m sorry…I just-“, he started when a shout from inside the warehouse distracted them. The men seemed suddenly on high alert and Phil realized too late what it was. He was much too close to the garage door. Just outside the circle of light and kind of to the side but probably still very visible from the inside. They had noticed him. He really was stupid. May cursed.

"Stay here", she snapped and jumped right out of the car. May ran straight at them, ducking behind crates and vaulting over them while the evil agents scrambled for their guns. But May was fast.

Phil had never seen anything like it, maybe in an action movie but not in real life. She had been right - he had had no idea what she was capable of. Even with bruised ribs her movements were fluid and narrow, not one step out of place, not one swing too much. She did not wince even once, she moved swiftly, hit with a force that made Phil shiver and seemed to possess the strength of ten men. She was like a coursing river, like a typhoon, like a raging fire, she was - in trouble. May fought three menacing looking evil agents at once, dispatching them one by one, kicking their guns out of their hands, swiveled around, using one as a shield, used the knife one swished at her against him. But there was one Phil was sure she wasn't able to see from her angle. Phil did. A stinking vermin of a man, tall and burly with slicked-back hair and a mad grin sneaking up on May from behind a crate, right around the corner, a gun in his hand and he stepped out into the open and aimed at her back -

Phil had a split second to decide. He didn't know anything about combat. He didn't have a gun and wasn't even sure how to fire one. Shouting to warn May? Might have distracted her while she was punching the third guy. So Phil did the only other thing he could think of and started the engine again. He pushed down the accelerator and headed straight for the bad guy. Pedal to the metal. Lola's tires screeched and the air suddenly smelled like burning rubber and the interior of the factory was all a blur. Blood roared in Phil's ears as he headed right for the bad guy who turned around at the scream of Lola's engine and whose eyes widened as he saw them coming at him. Later it would be all a blur in Phil's mind. Later, at home, his hands would shake and he would have nightmares for days. But now he saw everything very clearly, very slowly. The shock on the man's face and the gun aimed at him and the bang when he took a shot at Phil. The sound of the bullet that ricochet off Lola's bonnet and the sickening thud when Phil hit the man at full speed and the crunch of the windshield and the screaming of the brakes. He heard his own rasping breaths and saw every detail of surprise on May's face and how she smoothed out her features before she jogged over to another crate to pick up a familiar looking black briefcase. Then she slid back onto the passenger seat and took a few moments to look at Phil.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I told you to wait outside."

"You were in trouble."

„You have no training. This has nothing to do with you. Coming in after me was a stupid thing to do."

"He was going to hurt you."

May stared at him, intently, maybe disbelieving, searching his face. Then she reached out and squeezed his arm before she looked down and patted the black briefcase in her lap, seeming utterly relieved.

"Let's go."

 

It was a silent drive back through the city. Phil had to stretch in his seat every once in a while so see over the broken windshield when they were going around a corner and every so often May gave him directions to wherever it was they were going. It was late and the air had cooled down and nobody was on the streets. They were lucky.

In the end May motioned for Phil to stop in front of an old bar. The name on the neon sign was missing a letter and there was litter in the curb. Not the best neighborhood but Phil knew better than to point it out to May who balanced the black briefcase on her knees and looked a little scary in her black clothes with wet glistening blood spatter all over the front. But she looked much more relaxed than half an hour ago and pulled his messenger bag from the footwell without a word.

She dug Phil’s notebook and a pen out of his bag and scribbled down an address, before handing it to him.

„Ask for Mack, he still owes me a favor“, she said with a tilt of her head. „He has experience with this sort of thing.“

"Bulletholes in cars?", he asked dumbfounded. He tried to imagine a mechanic overseeing a line of Government SUVs riddled with bulletholes, shot out tires and missing mirrors. Did they have some kind of spy gadgets to make the holes in the metal magically disappear? May rolled her eyes at him.

"Cracked windshields."

He smiled sheepishly at her. They locked eyes for a second and Phil was very much aware that they were parking at the curb and that this was goodbye. He had only known her for little more than an hour but as crazy as this evening had been, he didn't want her to go.

"I'm sorry, you know", he said quickly, hunching his shoulders. „About what I said before. And if I didn't let them have the case in the first place-„

"Then they would have killed you", May cut him off. The look she gave him was very sincere, her features might even have been soft. (But that could have been a trick of the light.)

"Still", Phil murmured. She was incredible and beautiful and probably in a lot of trouble because he had handed the case over. At least she had it back now. It was highly unlikely that any major cities would be blown up in the next few days. That was good, right?

Phil tilted his head. He wondered what would happen to her now, where she would go next, what would happen to the briefcase and the super secret codes that where in it. He wondered if she would forget about him. Phil was pretty sure not in a million years would he ever forget about her. May. Unless...

"Soooo", he drawled, unsure. "What happens now? You're not gonna wipe my memory, are you?"

It was a joke. Obviously. He gave her a weak smile while she gave him another one of those incredulous looks. She had beautiful eyes.

"That's what they would have done in a spy flick", he grinned, feeling bold.

Suddenly she leaned over the middle console, placed her hands on both sides of his face and her lips right on top of his. They were soft but firm and one of her thumbs slowly stroked his cheek once, twice, and that was pretty much all it needed to short circuit his brain. It was over before he could really, consciously realize what was happening or kiss back or anything.

„What? You- I - why-?“ He stared at her, stunned, while she just gave him a small teasing grin and a raised eyebrow. (He really started to like those eyebrows.)

„That’s what would have happened in a spy flick, isn't it?“, she smirked, grabbed the black briefcase tighter and stepped out of the car.

„Stay out of trouble“.

And with that she was gone. Just vanished behind a group of chattering people coming out of the bar. Just...gone. (Being gone in the blink of an eye was also very much a spy move.)

Phil stared at the seat she had just been in, at the spot on the pavement he had just seen her. His lips tingled and he felt unable to move and suddenly he was very glad that he was sitting down because his knees felt all wobbly. Wow.

It took several minutes before he could turn the key in the ignition again and pull away from the curb. He took the long route back to the university (which must have been an automatic reaction because why didn't he just go home?) and sat there in the semi-darkness of the parking lot. What was he supposed to do now, exactly? Call somebody? But what to tell them? That a bunch of evil agents had stolen a black briefcase and a beautiful woman had basically highjacked his car and that they had gone on a wild car chase through the city? Phil chuckled to himself and ran his hands over the steering wheel before looking at the empty seat beside him again. No, better he kept this one all to himself. Who would ever believe a regular guy anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> So? What do you think? Did you like it? Should I write a sequel? Comments and Kudos are highly appreciated. <3


End file.
